Where I Belong
by Tj99joy
Summary: When the disheartened slave girl tries to kill the Frenchman who took her away from her home, she lands in some trouble with the assassin, Connor Kenway,who, along the way, discovers who they truly are. OC'S STORYLINE. NO PAIRINGS.
1. Rough Beginnings

**Hey guys, I'm new at this so please go easy on me, please. If there are any confusions please message me.**

**(I am aware of historical inaccuracies) Don't like Original Characters? Boohoo, don't read. **

The girl was strange, and she knew, through the streets of Boston, she stalked her own shadows and the people glared at her as if she didn't belong. One glance, everyone knew she was not from this side of the world. And it's true, she wasn't. She was merely a slave, captured by the French, back in what is today, Vietnam. Taken by the soldiers, pushed into this pointless war in the colonies, she wasn't even a boy…and at first this bothered her, she wished to be treated like a woman, like the woman in the marketplace. But they told her that she behaves like an arrogant boy, so will be treated as one. So far she's gotten used to it…

She brushed away the loose strands of hair in front of her face that had escaped her low ponytail. Her pitch-black hair was dull and damp, drenched in sweat, her pale, yellow-tinted skin scraped up and stained with wet dirt and blood. Dressed in the standard continental soldier's uniform, she stripped off layers of the coat. The girl was treated like a dog, so she ran away from the battalion in the middle of the night…she collapsed to the ground and panted, the French soldiers, the continental soldiers, the town's militia, were all looking for her, or at least keeping an eye out for her. Why would they care so much for a slave?

Painful memories shot back into her mind. Why would they care so much for an ignorant slave girl like me?

I looked around, and ran off into the woods. All I want to do is go home. Back to where I knew I belonged. I ran away, so what is this? Treason? Mutiny? Betrayal? I don't know, but whatever this is…they'll certainly string me up for this. After years of farm work back home, and military training here, I've grown stronger, and taller than most of the civilians. But still I've been rejected nearly all my life. Though I was lucky enough to grow up in a happy family, I am never happy because the French took me away from the ones I really loved. And one day they will pay for dragging me into this war.

The bright sunlight was not as hot as back home, but still affects us no matter what. I ignored the sweat that trickled down my face, just keep running. I fall to my knees, and cry out in frustration though no one can hear me; my hands feel around for anything to help me get back up. But it was useless. I cursed at the sun and at the whole damn world as it turned into a thick black haze haunted  
echoes of my mother's voice telling me in Vietnamese that I was crushing the rice paddies made me laugh out loud as consciousness faded away, the voices fade and  
all I hear left is the strange English name the French had given me…_Tiffany._


	2. Scout

**Thank you produkt with your valuable critism so much! I am a struggling writer. My first chapt was crap. I'm srry. I have trouble with the same things every single time. Your critism helps me improve so thank you. Praise makes me happy but the critism is what counts. THX PRODUCKT. (srry about the confusion)**

"Avez-vous la trouver?" The French soldier demanded. My eyes opened immediately at the sound of French. Immediately I saw the scowls on all of their faces and the bright burning sunlight blur my vision. I sat on the ground, with both of my hands tied to a post behind my back. I struggled with the knots and tugged and pulled. I was certain, I was a dog. A slave-girl.

"Hey! Tiffany…stop it!" A familiar voice snapped in a disapproving tone and a heavy French accent. I stopped protesting, and glanced at him. Jacque. The only man I chose to trust ever since I first stepped onto this new land.

"No." I spat. And with that, he rolled his eyes and I continued to struggle. I looked around at the men, all of them much older them me. They had tied me outside, in front of the whole camp, which was very much busy. Everybody who walked by, gave a confused glance at the guards or just look plain shocked. Many continental soldiers were around, but few of them guards. How embarrassing. I looked over at Jacque and he looked back at my innocent glare and sad eyes. He laughed.

"I don't know how many times we had to chase you down, you silly little girl." He chuckled. I frowned. Many times, many times. But every time they brought me back, smacked me around a few times, then I ran away again. "How did you know it was me?" I muttered. Jacque seemed to ponder this.

"Well…it's quite obvious you're just a woman in men's clothing."

"What?"

"You bring so much attention to yourself, you're bleeding, and you're sweating. A woman in a soldiers clothing is easy to find." I was star struck at this idea and mentally slapped myself for being so stupid.

"Jacque, arrêtez de lui parler." One of the French soldiers surrounding me said harshly. Jacque immediately listened to his superior and turned around again. I scowled.

"Je parle le Français aussi, imbécile!" I hissed. He turned around menacingly and raised a fist, threatening to cut me into pieces with his razor sharp gaze. But a white stallion galloped into the camp and everybody seemed to throw their attention towards it as if the king of England was the one riding the fine horse. The rider however, was a simple looking man, the only difference was the silly white wig he wore on his head and the long black cape that flourished in the air when the horse moved around. His gaze moved around the entire camp but abruptly came to a stop as he noticed the post I was tied to and the circle of guards surrounding it, just as I had feared the flouncy cape and powdered wig man dismounted his fancy horse and took his time coming over. He stopped in front of the Frenchman. "Excuse me, gentlemen. But may I ask, why is this young woman tied up?" He asked unbelievably politely. One of the men replied in a struggling attempt in English. "Ah, she is very…stubborn. Our orders were to keep her safe." He replied. The man smiled at me. That was quite new. He did not question why I was wearing a soldier's uniform, or why I looked so different. It was rather pleasant not to reply to the same questions. He shook his head playfully.

"This is no way to treat a lady, untie her at once." He said firmly but heartily. But the Frenchman stood tall and looked at him. "I am sorry, monsieur, but we do not take orders from _you_." He spat. The man in the wig frowned. "Yes, you take orders from _your_ general, but he takes orders from _me_." The guards looked at him in shock. "We are sorry, General Washington." The men left their posts including Jacque who threw a few glances back to look at me in confusion. I watch him leave. I looked up at the strange man. He crouched down and pulled out a knife to cut away the tight ropes. I pulled away from him. "I've taken care of those already, merci." I mumbled. I pulled my hand in front of me to show him that I have already untied myself discreetly. He held out a hand to help me up and I gladly accepted. I noticed the wide grin on his face. "You seem to be a clever girl. Walk with me." He said gently. I hesitantly obeyed and followed him as he seemed to stroll carelessly until he fell off the far edge of the world.

"Never in my life have I seen a woman in men's clothing." He mumbled cautiously carefully not to prick one of my nerves.

"It's a long story." I replied embarrassed once again at how much I stood out.

"I am listening." The story went on, and as we walked the soldiers seem to watch us both, with suspicious yet curious looks on their faces. I followed him until he stopped at the edge of the cliff. We spoke for roughly an hour, and I got tired of listening to my own voice ramble endlessly. The odd man seemed intrigued however. "Hmm…that explains your…exotic appearances. But your name is quite familiar." Tiffany? My name is strange, unusual, and sounded rough.

"Ah! You are Lieutenant John Pierre's scout!" He finally said. The name of my master startled me. Scout? He chuckled.

"He speaks quite fondly of you, though he has never mentioned you running away before."

"Scout?" I questioned

**Avez-vous la trouver= Did you find her?**

**Jacque, arrêtez de lui parler= John, Stop talking to her.**

**"Je parle le Français aussi, imbécile!"= I understand French too, idiot.**

**Google Translate LOL**


	3. Forgotten Plans

** I'm so glad you guys are enjoying the story! Your flattering reviews keep my ideas flowing so thank you!**

**( I'm getting the hang of this website!)**

**Ahem, a lot going in this chapt. so i don't blame you if you are confused...and people waiting for Connor to butt in, wait just a little longer please!**

**I promise you, he is almost here!**

**Tiffany, Lieutenant John Pierre, and Jacque are my OC's. Happy Readings!**

"A…scout? Me?" I rambled stupidly. A worried look crossed Washington's face.

"Is…something wrong?" He said. I looked at him and forced a relaxed smile, trying to reassure him that I was alright.

"No, of course not…I'm…fine." I laughed half-cheerfully.

"You seem rather-." He was cut off by one of the Frenchman sprinting towards us, half panting. He stood straight at attention at the sight of General Washington, and in between breaths announced that Lieutenant John Pierre had arrived. I quietly groaned at this. He must have been the man Washington wanted to see, because he quickly thanked him and said that he would be right on his way back. He spun around on his heels to face me again, the glowing smile still plastered onto his face.

"I enjoyed our little talk, Miss Tiffany. I plan to come back, two weeks from now for more important matters; will you be available for another chat?" He chirped pleasantly. I thought this over, and he peered at me patiently.

"I might be…no promises." I snarled. No one had ever mentioned me EVER being some kind of scout. What did scouts even do? This upset me.

"I see." Washington murmured. He suddenly, very quickly, but unbelievably gently, lifted my right hand to his mouth and gently pressed his lips, against my hand. I flinched in shock. What in the world was he doing? Is this behavior normal? I thought. People only use their lips to eat, drink, sing, speak, and smile. Not whatever HE was doing. After bidding me farewell, I stood nearly dazed. I have been growing up in Boston longer than I have back home in the rice fields, in the sunny country side. But I've never seen such an act so strange. I glared at my palms, like a confused kitten.

/

"Oi! You!" The Frenchman suddenly burst out. I gasped as I realized I wasn't alone. He pointed a chubby finger at me, "John Pierre wants to talk to you after his meeting." He growled.

"He can wait!" I hissed. He pinched my ear and dragged me back despite my protests and violent shoves. He lugged me inside of Pierre's tent then tossed onto the ground.

"Rester sur place!" He barked. I am merely a puppet. Some child's toy that can be thrown around and torn into pieces. He stormed out of the tent into the hot summer heat, only for Jacque to come back minutes later. Each time the entrance to the tent flew open the bright crisp trees were revealed, and a strange feeling of desire to breathe the fresh air filled me.

"Ah, Tiffany, you've returned." He handed me a canteen and ordered me to drink before I dehydrate again. I sat on the ground and stared up at him.

"How was your talk with General Washington?" He commented. _Your Lieutenant John Pierre's scout! _The echoes in my head annoyed me greatly.

"Fine." I replied simply. The word scout simply confused me. And once again suddenly reminded me of how desperate I was to escape. More desperate than usual…my mind tried excruciatingly hard to remember what happened before heatstroke got the best of me. I remembered crashing into a man selling apples, I laughed, and I remember pushing aside sailors carrying crates of who-knows-what inside of them, and their cries of fury as I ran away. So desperate…but why? In fact, I was so incredibly desperate that I was stupid enough to attempt my escape during the middle of a scorching summer day…

I was always forced to wear a soldiers garb but Pierre has never allowed me to carry around a musket, just a penknife and a large arrowhead I had found, he never let me march onto the battlefield though I begged and demanded him to let me. I wanted to try out the rush of adrenaline the soldiers described on the battlefield, rather than sitting here plotting my next wild goose chase. Sacred images of my "master" flashed in my head. The man I hated so intensely it seemed impossible to despise one single human being so much.

"I'm worried about you." Jacque said suddenly, capturing my faded attention. "If Pierre goes too far, one more time…" He warned.

I knew what he meant, he and I were the only ones who feared his presence. I was awaiting the pain tonight, too, whenever Pierre returned, pain makes itself comfortable. Last time had resulted in a broken arm… Jacque, the only man I trusted, was the only man who cared about me. I was sure of this, maybe with the exception of Washington, but whenever the French soldiers heard shrill shrieks of pain and agony in the middle of the night, they always knew it was coming from me, the only woman around. If continental soldiers were present, the Frenchmen calmed them and tried to convince them it was something else…they told them that I had nightmares from the bloody wounds and dying men they sometimes brought back.

"Don't worry about me, tonight, Jacque. I've gotten quite used to his man-handling." I chuckled. He sighed in frustration.

"I'm serious, Tiffany. He could end up killing you one day." I shrugged.

"Really? I'll make sure I get fancied up when the time comes." I muttered sarcastically, reduced to playing with a stick.

"Fine. Fine! I give up! Go and joke about death, I'll be outside!" He growled. I dropped the stick and watched him leave in shock. I felt hurt. I had only wanted him to not worry about me, why was he so upset? Hours past, and Jacque did not come back. I stood up and peeked outside of the tent only to be roughly shoved back inside by the guards outside. More hours past and the tent was getting cooler. There was chatter in both English and French outside; there was an occasional shuffling noise, and a few shouts. I had looked outside about nine times and tossed back. So instead of entertaining myself with the stick, I merely went back to remembering the cause of my frantic escape.

Snippets of my thoughts slowly eased themselves back into my thoughts. I remembered reminding myself as I ran that if I had gotten far enough into my forgotten plan and discovered, they would execute me. But night fell eventually, and the only noises were the crunching and crackling from the campfire and the men rambling about their families. Pierre's tent was farther away from the rest, probably to drown out any kind of sobbing. I sighed cringing at the sound of my bones cracking the night he had gone much too far. And once the noises outside died down and the tent became unforgivingly cold, the all-too-familiar harsh voice of Pierre met my ears.

"Vous pouvez être rejeté." He announced to the guards outside. I stared down at the ground and dragged my stick around in smooth circles. Pierre's presence was followed by the cool breeze being let in from the outside. I did not bother looking at him, only paying attention to the tips of his polished shoes and the dirt circles I had traced.

"So what is this about me being involved in spy work?" I questioned immediatly. I met his gaze to see his mouth hanging open in surprise.

"Who told-."

"General Washington. It seems you speak very fondly of me." I informed, half-amused, in an attempt to hide my fear. "I have never been involved in this kind of work, it's enough you drag me into their war, and just have me sit here for you to play with but now you tell the others I am a spy?"

No sound escaped my mouth as he swiftly smacked me across the face.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that!" He hissed. "They allow you to stay because they _**think**_ you are my scout, what other reason do you think they would let me bring a woman into this warzone?" I scoffed at this and was smacked again, fighting away a tear in my eye. Right, that's because you use me just to ease your troubles and stress. Like a toy. I thought.

"Be grateful! We have taught you the languages we speak, we have fed you and clothed you, taught you how to survive, and you repay us by running away."

"I repay you in my blood." I growled. He cocked an eyebrow at me, and I pushed away my sleeve revealing a series of long scars that were once bloody gashes. All of them, because of him. A hard fist swung across my cheek and Pierre hooked my chin with his finger and brought my gaze up to his.

"Don't talk back, I have cared for you since the day we brought you back, and I have thought of your beauty every time I see your face. Be grateful…" He warned. I grinned.

"You think I'm pretty?" I smirked haughtily. Smack.

**Rester sur place=Stay put!**

**Vous pouvez être rejeté= You may be dismissed.**

**I used a tiny but of google translate so forgive me if they are unaccurate translations.**


	4. Lessons on Love

**Sup, people! I'm back, first of all I'm pretty sure you guys didn't notice that i had updated the story, for my 3rd chapt.**

**I'm sorry I uploaded the two chapters on the same day, i have waaayy too much time on my hands. So instead, if for some incredible reason you like my fiction, please check the number of chapters not date updated to see if i had written more! Thank You!**

**/**

**On another note, my friend challenged me to write a chapter based on humor, akwardness, and sadness at the same time. (I'm pretty much as funny as a dead fish so ha, ha)**

**So please tell me what you think of this chapt by leaving a review! Thx! Imma shut up now and Happy Readings!**

Nights were much longer when the devil was around. It was the same pattern usually, after being sent to his tent, I get scolded, then I get smacked around a little bit, then he sends me to my own tent, whether or not I'm limping like an elderly man or reduced to crawling like an infant. My tent was much smaller than the others, but I enjoyed the privacy. I was quite lucky today even though I dragged myself back hurt inside and out, thinking about what Pierre had said again. You are weak, you are nothing. At least I can sleep with just one bloody nose that is still bleeding. My hands tried to stop the bleeding but only resulted in a bright crimson stream that drenched my fingers and mouth. I knelt down to crawl into the entrance, using one hand to support me and another hand hanging in front of my mouth, and laid down on the sharp sticks of hay that covered the ground of the tent.

"_Merde_! What did he do this time?" A voice whispered harshly. I choked on the blood in fear and shock. My face snapped around. A large figure appeared sitting up on my bed made of straw.

"Jacque! Go hang yourself, you idiot! Are you trying to scare the life out of me?" I snapped recovering from the unpleasant surprise. I stared at him impatiently.

"Get out of my tent, Jacque, NOW." I snarled. He merely scoffed at me as I tore of the bloody, dirty piece of cloth from the edge of shirt. Jacque snatched the rag from me and began to wipe off most of the blood. But I pulled back after a while.

"Stop it!" I whined between quiet sobs. He lowered his hand and glared at me with a strange look on his face and sad glow in his pale blue eyes. Perhaps he was going to get angry at me and leave again. At least I'd be alone; I've gone so many times without breaking down into tears, the only achievement I have left that's worth being proud of. Jacque just pushed me off the cliff, into another frenzy of sadness. I felt a hand on my shoulder; he had the bloody ragged clutched in his hand, staining his skin, and he glared at the rag as he spoke in a haunting, sad tone.

"I'm…sorry, Tiffany. I forgot how fragile you are when you return from that hell." He muttered dismally. I weak, bitter laugh escaped his mouth.

"I hate that I can't help you, so I'll leave you alone." He mumbled quietly staring down at the burgundy bundle of blood. Jacque sat up stiffly and pushed aside the tent's flap, mixed emotions flew inside of my head. I grabbed onto his wrist as he left.

"Where are you going?" I demanded quietly. I saw his eyes light up playfully, the bright cheery glow soon returning to his skin and the challenged expression that dusted his face.

"To sleep, why? Do you want me to kiss you goodnight like a child?" He smirked. I wiped away the tears with my hand and sniffled.

"What the hell is…kiss?" I murmured intrigued and confused at the new word. Jacque looked like someone had slapped him right in the face, he grinned.

"You don't know what kiss is?" He laughed fascinated at my curiosity.

"Non…that is why you are going to sit here and tell me what 'kiss' IS." I replied firmly. He laughed unnecessarily loud. I swear Jacque sat there for an hour snickering at me while muttering the word kiss under his breath, and then gagging. I frowned, and watched him in his fit of laughter.

"What is it?" I huffed impatiently. A strong desire to know the meaning of kiss filled me.

"You're…serious…?" He chuckled as he wiped away a tear of joy. I nodded and folded my arms again.

"Very."

"Oh, well then…Ah…how do I explain? It's when a man and a woman…err, lock lips? Uh, no, they sort of press their lips together…yes...uh." He explained. An awkward aura filled the tent.

"That is disgusting." I declared. "Why would I want to put my mouth on a man's face?" Jacque laughed at this, half of me felt rather offended he would laugh at my confusion, and the other half was delighted to see him happy and for once, not worrying about the amount of blood I lose.

"You know nothing about, AMOUR." He purred gently. "I pity you."

A blank look crossed my face.

"Please tell me you know what amour is, Tiffany." His voice went flat.

"I know what that is!" I hissed. "I still don't understand the purpose of kiss, though."

"_Kissing. _Not 'purpose of kiss', silly girl." I waved away his arrogant amused tone.

"People kiss each other to show affection-"

"With their mouths?"

"Yes, darling, with their mouths.

"That is really revolting." I pointed out.

"Well people don't always do that to show affection! Sometimes a man kisses a woman's hand gently out of courtesy and politeness. See! Like this." Jacque gently lifted my hand that did not get dirtied with dried blood. And, lifted it to his lips, so that they met. I pulled my hand back at the familiar touch of some man's lips on the back of my hand. So that is what General Washington did out of courtesy! I saw the haughty smile on Jacque's face.

"That is strange. Can a woman kiss a man's hand?"

"No!" Jacque replied in disgust.

"Why not?"

"Well-! Because-! Only the man does it! Out of COURTESY."

"So a kiss on the hand is out of courtesy, and on the lips is affection or love…?"

"Sometimes children get a kiss on their forehead." Jacque pointed out poking a finger at me.

"Oh…I see."

"Do you now? Is there anything else you would like to ask?"

"I think so. Maybe I could try it sometime, when I find someone I love."

"Nope. The man kisses you, not the other way around."

"That is not fair." I complained. Jacque ruffled my hair causing the low ponytail to fall out.

"La vie n'est pas juste." He chuckled. He sat up once again to leave. "Oh yes and before you 'try' remember the rules."

"Rules?"

"Yes. No kissing more than one man. No kissing a man who is married or in a relationship. No kissing strangers, no kissing other woman, no kissing children if they are not yours, no kissing objects-!"

"I get it!" I laughed at his silliness and threw a handful of straw at him.

"Then good night." I watched as Jacque left and he disappeared outside where only his footsteps were heard. I lay down on my straw mattress and smiled to myself.

"Kissing is disgusting!" I whispered loud enough so he could hear.

"Go to SLEEP." Jacque called out holding back laughs, too. It was the first time that I didn't want to run away from camp, just sit here and talk with him for as long as possible.

But I wish he had trusted me when I said I knew what love meant. He was my only family, and I was his, since he was the blue-eyed orphan boy back in France. And I love him for being the only one who truly loved me too. I am sure of it. He is my family.

/

So the nights continued, and the injuries began to grow more severe, so severe that even I knew that I was in trouble. And that resulted in Jacque refusing to leave my tent until he was able to coax even a tiny smile out of me, after of course attending to my injuries.

Tonight, the air was especially hot, and I knew Jacque was furious even though I wasn't crying. For a girl who is already 20 years old, I suppose I cry too much when it comes to dealing with pain. But then again, Jacque always reminds me that it's because I've experienced too much pain for a woman. Today I knew he was terrible angry at Pierre and himself. It was the one night the he was on "errands" and was not waiting for me at the tent. So after being battered and baked, I dragged myself back to my sanctuary only to black out because of blood loss later, and drift in and out of unconsciousness until he came. I winced as Jacque stitched up the wounds, with an unusual determined look.

"Did…he go too far…?" I asked patiently. Jacque simply nodded, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

"Owww!" I snapped as he tugged on the piece of thread woven under my skin. He dropped the needle and snipped of the remaining thread.

"Listen." He ordered. "When are you planning your next escape?"

"Maybe next week. I'll try when Pierre is not around-."

"Do it tomorrow."

"What?"

Jacque sighed. And finally decided to look me in the eye, but eventually laid down the bloody stash of hay.

"Have you heard what's been going on recently?"

"Many things have been going on."

"Yes but with Pierre…he murdered two of our men three days ago, and instructed us to hide the bodies in the river." I stared at him in disbelief.

"That's…terrible…we have to tell the patriots, they should execute him for treason or something!" I replied outraged.

"He is a monster. But a powerful man, people have tried to tell the others, and he killed them to. If we attempted to report this he'll kill us too." He turned to me and continued.

"You know these things are making him very angry, and when he gets angry he takes it out on you…"

"Avez-vous peur pour ma vie à nouvea?" I sighed in mild annoyance.

"And what makes this matter worse is that his wife back in France has cheated on him."

"He cheats on her, too!" I pointed out.

"Yes but, I am almost sure he will kill you, Tiffany. Tomorrow. Escape. And this time I will help." He suddenly spoke faster and grabbed my shoulders with trembling hands.

"Listen closely! For I will not repeat myself! When you flee from here, don't look back; try your best not to weep…"

"Why would I weep?"

"That's not important! Run as fast as you can until you can't walk, don't look back! And if you can find a ladies dress and bonnet, to use as a disguise! And when they no longer remember your face, start a new life somewhere you truly belong…because here you are not free. And freedom is something we've been fighting for this entire time yet, it is something we ourselves have been neglecting for others. Do you understand me?"

"…I…yes but-." My mind was slowly absorbing the information but not understanding why I am panicking. I was interrupted by the strange kiss planted on my forehead and the strange last words he had left me.

"_Be safe, be well, and be happy my dear."_ Jacque whispered, his voice broken and trembling.

He then left, leaving me to ponder in confusion. I heard his footsteps outside of the tent and I could not see his face. Something that bothered me great

"How can I be happy when I know something bothers you, Jacque? You are my one and only family, and I love you _because_ you are family…" I called out my heart truly aching.

There was no response. But I knew he heard me and I knew he loved me too. My eyes began to water but no tears fell. _Jacque…why won't you answer me…?_

**_La vie n'est pas juste= Life isn't fair_**

**_Avez-vous peur pour ma vie à nouvea= Do you fear for my life, again?_**

**_Amour= Love Merde= sh*t _**

**_So again please check number of chapt instead of date updated and leave a review, bye!_**


	5. Heartless

**Bonjour! I'm back! Hopefully you noticed the number of chapt this time but anyways, (Please message me about confusions or errors, in spelling grammar, history, etc.)**

**I'm sorry if i rushed a bit on this one so please, i hope you don't get too mad at me. I also kind of was emotionless and dramatic at the same time, sorry. *faints* **

_**Ah! Finally Connor fans! He's here! And if you wait till the next chapt, it's all about him baby! Sorry it took so long!**_

Leave a Review and Happy Readings!

After making sure that I was depressed and worried enough to actually fall asleep, I started having weird dreams of how I'd escape the moment I woke up. But my thoughts were extremely focused on Jacque. No one else. Even when I had completely forgotten in the morning there was an immediate reminder. A rough shoulder bag.

The morning sunlight seeped through the tent and the atmosphere was pleasant, no crackling campfire or thick black smoke, no faint gunfire or busy horses neighing. I grabbed the large bag and nearly tore it open, it was beautiful, and it really was, I've never worn one of these but every single woman wore them when I ran past the market place as an attempt to escape. It was a long flowing dress missing an apron and bonnet, the color was a dark, shiny, copper color that reflected the light and was silky. The only problem was I had no idea how to put such a strange garment and would never ask help from anybody around here, Jacque knew this too because there was a note written in French that told me a location to go when I escaped to help put on the outfit. He told me to tell the owner of the house that I was I friend of his and she'll, (whoever she is) help me.

The note was written very rushed and sloppy, his usually perfect penmanship completely ruined by the trembling fine lines that inched around the parchment. He could have just told me all of this I thought. Why wouldn't he speak to me? I knew Jacque, usually when he was determined to do something, he'd make some spectacular-never fails plan. I sighed, because he'd always tell me that plan, just not today. And today was the day I hoped that his plan would fail, I didn't want to leave he if would ignore me like this. I continued clawing through the bag and found a canteen of water and a few apples; I scoffed and laughed at the same time. He knew I hated the very existence of apples, but I figured they would be good just in case. Digging a little while longer my fingers gently tapped a large metal object buried beneath the dress and canteen. My hand tingled at the familiar feel of the barrel. It was a pistol. A flintlock pistol, the ones the soldiers used and I've only fired once. To me, it was more beautiful than the dress; I stashed it underneath the dress and wore the shoulder bag over my uniform and crawled out of the low tent.

I saw him, a sad darkness looming under the bright sun, Jacque sat near the empty campfire, directly across from me, and I knew he was pondering his options in our plan, he looked afraid for half of a second, but then resumed the determined face. I stood by the entrance of the tent staring ahead into the dark black pit of ashes, where the fire was supposed to be dancing. I took a step closer, crushing the crunchy sticks of grass beneath me. The morning was cool, and I was sure I would not faint this time. But last time I had run so far in the heat, and still determined to run even farther if the militia hadn't noticed me and sent me into the 6th chasing spree that same day.

Again, it slapped me hard in the face. _The plan_, not Jacque's escape plan for me today, but the reason I ran away, the plan, that if executed properly would get me executed as well. That is, if I were to be caught. My brain seemed to be screaming for the answer, why did I run so desperately that time?

I looked up to the sad figure that sat next to the fire pit. And if on cue his head snapped toward me, a tiny smile grew and the same smile appeared on my face. He motioned me to come over, when there was a faint cry, an ear-piercing gunshot and deafening silence. His head snapped back to the lake, and sleepy soldiers lurched out of their tents to investigate the noise. It was all too obvious.

Pierre. Another man dead, another one if ours. Even though I had no interest in this war, I knew it was never a good thing when a man dies for no reason. Jacque was looking behind him and there came the devil drenched in some other man's blood. I backed into my tent and peeked through the small opening. Jacque saw me do this, he watched me as Pierre trudged into the camp, Jacque tapped his shoulder, and I tapped my shoulder bag to show him I had it. He winked and then Pierre stood in the crowd of men beginning to cuss and lecture them in French. I rolled my eyes. But the look on Jacques face told me, _this_ was not part of the plan.

Jacque all of sudden confidently stood up from his seat in front of the fire pit and confronted Pierre.

**My heart stopped beating, afraid of…**

They exchanged foul words and arguments I couldn't hear. But each time Jacque finished his sentences the men gathered around nodded in agreement, and shouted in unison. He was disagreeing with Pierre, or in other words gambling his life; I stepped out of my tent meekly and watched standing as gracefully composed as possible. This was part of the plan, Jacque's eyes told me as they discreetly flickered from Pierre's furious glare to my fearful dark brown eyes. A tiny reassuring smile appeared on Jacques face but his cheery blue eyes grew cold and dark.

Run. Run away and don't look back.

I hesitated, but turned around and ran slowly into the forest, but unwillingly looked back to see a flintlock pistol identical to my own pointed at Jacques head.

…**afraid…of this.**

I saw the surprised yet relaxed look on his face, and his calm little smirk directed towards me, that said, this wasn't part of our plan…but it is now. The barrel nearly touching his glowing skin, recoiled harshly as it fired, the heartbreaking sound and the limp body collapsed.

"J-Jacque…" I croaked barely able to hold my feet. I heard Pierre ordering the men to hide the body or he would shoot again, they backed up away from the body and the gunshot rang throughout the woods again, another man dead, the soldiers seem to have forgotten they had guns too, but they obeyed eventually.

Lives were so easily extinguished like flames on a candle. I stared at the ground, at my shoes. Again my eyes grew glossy and began to well up. But no tears fell. I forced myself to cry for Jacque but nothing happened. As if I'd forgotten how to cry, or I'd already used up all my tears. I scowled and finally began to replace the empty grief with anger, any kind of anger. I clenched my fists until my knuckles turned a bloodless white. The forgotten plan? That's right; I was trying to find a way to kill Pierre, to assassinate him after years of the same pattern. And only now did that hit me, several nights after passing out, only now did I remember my conspiracy.

"You!" The harsh voice lashed out. I gasped and looked up, Pierre pointed at me barking orders in French. I turned around and ran. Never looking back.

/

Death was a new concept to me but I don't understand why out of all the time of pain, I did not cry when the one only one I loved was taken from me. After a while I slowed down realizing nobody had been chasing me, but positive they'd send someone later. My hand ventured down to feel the smooth metal handle of the pistol. I paused, awaiting the tears. Nothing came.

I caught my breath after running into a familiar harbor, nobody was around and I looked behind me to see if I were being followed anyway. I was disturbed by the empty grief inside of me. It was a hollow feeling, faint and disappearing. I realized I wanted to cry, I just couldn't. I felt long slender fingers wrap around my wrists, my free hand instantly snapped into place grabbing the long sharpened arrow-head and firmly pressing it against the person's throat. I was surprised to see a tiny blonde-haired woman staring back, her eyes wide in fear and her mouth stuttering trying to find words.

"Are you…Tiffany?" She whispered gingerly, her hand now shaking. I stared at her with the glittering arrowhead still clutched tightly in my fists.

"How do…who are you?" I growled. She dragged me to some strange house and pushed me inside.

"I'm a friend of Jacque." She explained. "We don't have much time; you need to run farther, before they send soldiers to knock down my house."

"How's Jacque been doing?" She asked while pulling out the shimmery copper dress out of the shoulder bag.

"Him…? He's…" I choked on the words but while I watched her change me into the dress, pausing as she explained what little garment worked, still not trusting her. When she mostly finished and began fixing up my hair, I explained to her what had happened.

"Well…then…he shot him." I murmured. She dropped the hairpins on the ground, and I saw her mouth once again hang wide open from the reflection in the vanity. I almost envied her because she cried, just for about five minutes before calming down and attempting to finish the rest of my hair. She then went on about him and how she'd hope he'd rest in peace. I felt my eyes water as little memories relaxed in my mind. No tears.

"Wait here." She sniffed. I waited and stared into the mirror. She had turned all of my long black hair into a cascade of curls and swept onto one side of my head and pinned into place. The shimmer coppery dress was beautiful when it was folded up and I felt almost strange wearing the lovely piece of clothing.

"Here it is." The blonde woman said holding a basket and another folded up dress.

"Put your shoulder bag in this basket and cover it with the dress, people will be suspicious of a girl holding a man's bag. The dress you could wear later…and…" She pulled out a small pouch. "Ammunition. For the small fire arm in the bag." I nodded, and studied the dress, it, like the one I wore, reflected the light and looked like satin. The fabric was light and smooth because the weather was heavy and hot, the color a metallic royal blue. I noticed beside the shoulder bag that was shoved into the round basket, was a pure white bonnet and apron. The woman also stuffed another pouch of food in the basket and gave it to me. She inspected the voluminous curls that formed at the ends of my hair.

"I've never seen a girl who looked like you before. You're quite pretty when you're not covered in dirt." I blushed and held onto the basket with both hands.

"Thank you for all of your kindness. What is your name?" I asked.

"Sarah." She chirped.

Three hard knocks on the door caught our attention and Sarah froze, knowing who was at the door, she opened it hesitantly, and I sat on the stool of the vanity.

The soldiers questioned her, asking if she had seen a runaway slave girl. She answered trying to compose herself. I looked out the door and my eyes met the soldier's. Immediately he pushed the door open a little wider and Sarah stepped back fearfully. He glared at my face, and continued to look at him, his eyes slowly straying away, my fingers winding up a strand of hair delicately. He stepped outside again, thanked Sarah, and left.

Sarah stood pale and afraid.

"I'll leave through the back, Sarah. Thank once again." I said calmly.

"Mama?" A voice cried out. I looked back and saw a child who looked identical to Sarah, only with light chestnut brown hair. She stared at me in fear like her mother. She must be a widow I thought.

"Thank you." I sighed once again and left.

/

Only I didn't know where to go, groups of soldiers passed by and I merely looked away, should I hide? What should I do? I thought of Jacque and his happy smile, his happy words.

My thoughts guided me into the woods…and finally I began to cry in memory of Jacque. Sad salty tears rolled down my face and I remembered once again. The plan. My plan. Kill Pierre. Anger filled me, vengeance took over. I don't know where I belong yet, and I still don't know my purpose in this life, but I know if Pierre continues to kill our men, someone needs to stop him and I decided it will be me…I changed back into my soldier uniform not wanting to tarnish the dress.

/

Night soon fell and I laughed at the new feeling of not being beaten this late at night. It was freedom to me. But I was still angry, he took away my home and my friends, I won't go home until I get rid Pierre forever. I cried again after I thought I heard Jacque's voice. Dirt crumbs stuck onto my uniform, and I managed to climb onto a tree after several failed attempts in the morning, thinking that if the soldiers search for me again in the woods the time I had fainted, I wouldn't be passed out on the ground. By now I learned how to balance on the long sturdy branches, and fell off once clinging onto the branches and climbing back up. Slowly, I learned like this, only jumping around in the trees avoiding the ground at night, remembering warnings about bears, after a while during the next morning, I had gotten faster, falling occasionally, slipping now and then, but I finally taught myself how to climb onto the tree and travel like that, I was lucky because there turned out to be many search parties near my area…they never look up and I only had one goal in mind. Kill Pierre. The soldiers were only afraid of him, and if he were gone, they'd stop following me.

I sluggishly retraced my steps back to the camp, during the night, and found the same area, where my tent was still pitched and the large long black branch hung over it. I stood at the tip of that branch scowling at the sacred thoughts of his death and the years I've spent there. I pulled the flintlock pistol out of my holster than had always been empty until now. I was careful not to slip again, since I've been doing that quite often when I travel at night. I stared into the fire that lit up the campsite and realized how close I really was to Pierre's tent.

/

As if on cue, the white stallion galloped into the camp, its rider no other than the devil himself. I aimed my pistol carefully at him, at his head, I knew I would not miss considering how close he was to me without him realizing. Pierre sat angrily posed on his horse, demanding to know if they had found me since this was the longest I've ever been gone. I smirked. And I poised my finger on the trigger aiming carefully.

"Here's to the life you took away from me, you bastard." I whispered carefully steadying my hand and remembering all the times I had ever shot a gun. I scowled, and swung around quickly, not surprised to see a man dressed unlike any other continental, French, or British. I knew something had been following the whole time, I just didn't think it would be some strange man in a white hood. We seemed to study each other; I pointed the barrel of the gun to his chest. He stood confidently, darkly, resembling a wolf …

He was strange, his face hidden under his hood, and his mouth hung open a little bit at the sight of a gun being pointed at him. His dress uniform was a blue jacket seemingly fastened with a red sash and some strange triangle figure…I took a few steps back, my other hand on the handle of the arrowhead. He advanced toward me until the barrel of the gun touched his chest once again.

"I hope you know how to use that thing." He smiled venomously, in a low growl.

**Connor, finally, it took you long enough to get yourself into my fiction geesh...yeah...so this chapt is probably a bit too...I was really excited about introducing Connor so...Yeah**

** Leave a Review and see you soon guys! (Please help my crappy writing and send me a PM if you see some errors!)**


	6. Let's Not Play This Game Anymore

**Sorry I totally hibernated** **guys! And by this time you would have though I wrote more...oh well. Here's Connor, folks, hope you like him.**

**I've been on my new DeviantArt account lately, my user name is still Tj99joy, and there are drawings of my OC Tiffany, on my account, sorry I couldn't give you a link! My fanfiction is also posted there too! So leave a review and happy readings!**

(Please notify me about spelling or grammar errors.)

The intruder took a glance at the right side of my head where I forgot to undo the long curls pinned there, and looked at my figure, the embarrassment turned to annoyance. He bit his lip and stared into my eyes. I took this as an attempt to try to distract me.

"Listen, I don't want to hurt you." He warned.

"It's really the other way around." I murmured.

"What-?" I swiped the long arrow-head out of the pocket and slashed at him, he swiftly jump backed as the tip dug through a large part of his upper arm, I noticed him flinch visibly at the sting from the bleeding gash, but no sound escaped his lips, he tried to keep his balance on the branch, but by that time I was already running away, jumping on different tree-tops, back to this old game…I thought as I realized he was now pursuing me.

He was much faster than me, he easily caught up by leaping across the branches, I felt his hands pull on the back of my coat, so I jumped onto the ground and he let go, but jumping down wasn't my best choice even though I ran fast from the years of trying to escape, the problem wasn't the weird guy, he was still behind me, the problem was the small search party of French soldiers I ran into…my heart stopped, I didn't want Jacque to die for nothing because I failed to listen or do anything right. The French soldiers took only half a second to recognize the Asian slave-girl once again her stupid uniform. I hesitantly turned around and bumped into another somebody, the silent hooded man was looking down at me, his bleeding left arm, was stiffly held at his side. His gentle glace switched from my face to the soldiers behind me. I looked back between the two, panting, with the pistol and arrowhead in my hand. The French soldiers ignored the hooded man as if he was not there and ran towards me shouting many things in French. Even the hooded guy seemed rather surprised that one of the Frenchmen pointed the musket at me. I didn't understand, were they trying to bring me back or kill me? I turned around again to face the strange man and he watched me, without moving a muscle. I tried running again, but he placed a hand in front of me, telling me to stay, or else. Once again I spun around and the tip of the bayonet from the soldier's musket pressed against the side of my neck where the curls did not interfere. I felt nick against my skin.

"You…do you know how many men Pierre has killed because of you? It'd just be better if we killed you and get this over with." He hissed. The hooded guy seemed to almost wince at this. He quickly put a hand on my shoulder. My hand twitched.

"She's coming with me." He snapped. The soldiers seemed to instantly recognize him, and they murmured things in French before questioning him. I understood most of their conversation; they said they had seen him with Washington before.

"Where are you taking her?"

"I…she is…Lieutenant Pierre's…scout! Is she not? General Washington has important matters with her."

"She is a runaway!" Another man out of the four said. The first one stepped out and roughly pushed him aside,

"Ah…I…mean…"

"You are lying." He told the hooded man and I felt his silver bayonet take it's time slicing across my right arm in a long thick line. I cried out quickly and staggered backward, trying to keep my balancing but stumbled onto the ground anyway, the Frenchman advanced but quickly I saw the hooded man, pull out a pretty bluish tomahawk with the same odd triangle on it, he executed a few fancy looking spins and the tomahawk's clean edges plunged into the Frenchman's stomach. He slumped to the ground, dead. The other three's reaction was also rather slow but they finally circled around him, the strange man looked behind his shoulder at me again and dodged multiple knives trying to skewer him, my right hand beginning to grow numb and painful. I slowly pulled myself up to my feet, and looked at the three dead bodies on the ground, he too examined the three. Where was the fourth? My hand struggled to hold the flintlock pistol properly, I glanced behind the hooded stranger and the fourth man held his musket above his shoulders trying to knock the stranger out. My fingers fumbled with the trigger but roughly aimed a foot away from the strangers face. The hooded man froze, I pulled the trigger and the man behind him lifelessly plummeted to the ground. The hooded man had a strange shocked look on his face. He glanced at the man behind him and back to the pistol I held shakily. He sauntered toward me, and by then I was struggling to stay on my feet, ready to complain about the bothersome stinging. He looked at my wound, and I looked his, both located on the upper arm.

He smirked. "Are…we even?" I slammed the butt of the pistol into his shoulder. He winced and stepped back. I watched him carefully.

"They're dead?" I muttered looking at the corpses. Death was still new to me, yet it didn't seem to affect me in any way. I was heartless.

"Yeah..."

"Then I'm leaving…" I announced, he grabbed my shoulder.

"Ow!"

"You are still in trouble, you know."

"Excuse me?"

"That little assassination attempt, that's my job. You are coming with me."

"Can't we pretend we never met?" He grabbed both of my hands and before I knew it he was tying them together in front of me. Back to this I see.

"It doesn't work like that. General Washington seems to like you, and he won't be happy when he hears about this." He examined me for a second. "I forgot you're name."

I rolled my eyes.

"I didn't give you my name." I groaned. He stared at me patiently.

"And I'm not telling you either."

"Tiffany?"

"Whoa! Who told-?"

"So I was right, Tiffany is your name." He began walking me out of the woods. "You don't look like a Tiffany. Is that your real name?"

"…"

"Well?"

"…"

"Hey-."

"Well what do YOU think, huh? Do I look English or French to YOU?" I hissed.

"Not in a good mood today, aren't you?" He chuckled. We kept walking until we were back into the harbor. It was crowded. People stopped talking and moving around to stare at me. I scowled.

"Where are we going?" I mumbled quietly undoing the sloppy knot. Everybody stared at the bloody girl in men's clothing tied up with the bloody boy in some odd hood with triangles everywhere.

He opened up the door of a building similar to Sarah's house, only a bit smaller. There was a man in a beaver skin hat, playing around with some kind of herb. He had a thick British accent which almost annoyed me because I couldn't understand a word. He grinned.

"Ah Connor, you've returned, have you run out of the salves already?" He laughed heartily.

"You don't look like a Connor." I whispered. The man in the beaver hat gasped halfway through his laughs.

"Connor? What happened to your arm, and who is this girl, and why on earth is she bloodied up worse than you and-."

"Me? Well, I ran into a, wolf, while I was in the woods." Connor explained.

"Yes…a wolf…" I muttered. He nudged me sharply.

"And her, she was attacked by the wolf before I arrived to aid her."

Like a gentleman. I laughed in my head.

"Please, help her, Samuel. I have to take her back to Virginia, and I'd rather not have her die of blood loss halfway through. I can heal myself."

"Of course." Samuel answered. He led me into a small room in the back and brought out a bunch of gauze. By the time he was done, I had changed back into my long-sleeved copper dress, learning by watching Sarah help me put it on, and fixed the hair. The bloody bandages hidden under my sleeve.

By the time he got back, I was already bored and back to the regular routine of finding a way to escape.

He thanked the man Samuel and tightened the knots in the rope after discovering they had "mysteriously" loosened themselves, even moving my fingers to once again loosen the knots, felt stiff with the bandages wrapped around my arm. But at least the wounds were taken care of. I was busy untying the last set of tangles.

"So who are you?" The hooded man Connor asked.

"Why do you need to know?"

"You don't look like you were born anywhere around here…do you have a tribe?"

"What?" I stared at him. He honestly thought I was an Indian. The one even Jacque called savages.

"A tribe." He repeated harshly.

"No, I'm, from…Vietnam." He started walking faster when a group of British soldiers patrolling swept across the marketplace. I noticed this, partially because he dragged me along, and partially because he covered up the knots that tied my hands together as we rushed past, because I'm sure people would've found this suspicious, especially if they were soldiers.

"I've never heard of that place." He said finally. He looked around him, searching for something, groaning in frustration and desperately trying to find someone or something.

"Are you lost?" I mumbled. He didn't reply.

"Maybe we could ask those guys for directions." I smiled sweetly, gesturing to the group of redcoats nearby. He flinched. It's working.

"No. I'm not lost. We could—hey, stop looking at them, they might…stop it!"

"Do they make you uncomfortable?" I teased.

"Don't." Connor warned.

"I wonder why men are so picky when it comes to asking directions…"

"I'm not lost! It's just if they see you all tied-."

"They'll think you're up to no good." He lunged at me, grasping my shoulder firmly, and I was surprised to see an odd blade slice out of the glove he had on his hand. The tip of the blade grazed my throat.

"Don't." He growled.

"Are you threatening me?" He seemed to scowl at this. I noticed the redcoats turn our way.

"HELP ME! THIS MAN IS TRYING TO KILL ME! HELP!" I screamed. He shoved me aside. The soldiers grabbed their guns fixed with bayonets and ran at him, the civilians, as usual fled, I ran away, again, not knowing where to go. Back to this old game once again.

**Uh huh, that's it. Not much, sorry, I've been a little low on inspiration, but once again, leave a review, and check out my deviantart page if you guys are bored like me! Thanks!**


	7. Family Reunion

**Well sorry for the long wait, guys. This one is super long so i hope that makes up for it, anyways, hope you like, be sure to check out my deviantart account if you like, my username is Tj99joy. Leave a review and happy readings guys. Multiple errors sorry bout that folks! **

I had decided to run back to Sarah's house, but thought against it, this is my problem. I only kept running until I didn't know my own name. The skirt tore a bit from the running, but eventually I slowed down and floated into an alley, hoping nobody would find me there. Nobody was in the alley; it was only quiet and sad. I dug around the shoulder bag for the arrowhead and pulled it out; if that strange man came back trying to bring me to Virginia I was not afraid to kill him. I thought back to the French soldier I killed. It didn't seem to move me at all, he only fell, and stopped breathing, his eyes left wide open and crimson stains on his shirt. Nothing more. Nothing less. I was surprised that I was capable of taking away a life, but I knew I was incapable of crying for such a stranger. I twirled the arrowhead around. I wasn't as strong as the soldiers anyways, but I guess bullets kill no matter who fire them.

I remembered the few snippets of home, it's been years but I remember the scene like it was yesterday. The pretty pattern in the rice fields and the triangular hats, the colors of each pretty ao dai. I've never really gotten this homesick all of a sudden, I only spent my time wondering, how to escape Pierre's men or what to do while I think. Draw with a stick, was always my best solution.

"I'll take that." A voice called out. I gasped and turned around in surprise. The man's hand quickly pinned mines against the wall, wrenching the arrowhead out of my fingers. I saw the tanned face under his hood, a triumphant grin plastered there. He stared at me, waiting for a response.

"You again." I muttered. "How-."

"Please, they chase me every single day; I think I'm smart enough to figure out how their minds work." He put away the arrowhead and once again dragged me back outside to the light. I saw a brown horse neighing; he made his way towards it.

"That's not fair if you used a horse." I complained. He told me to get on, and I remembered to sit the way Jacque said that ladies should sit on a horse. Connor got on in front of me. I felt uncomfortable with him sitting so close. In fact, I wanted personal space.

"Put your arms around my waist." He ordered.

"…wait….what…?"

"NOW."

"…why?"

"Just DO it!"

"Alright! Alright!" It was odd sitting with both of my feet hanging off of one side of the horse and having to hold onto him while he sat "normally." I didn't want to touch him at all.

"It looks strange….what are you doing?" I mumbled. I felt a tight cloth tie my wrists together in front of his chest.

"Just making sure you don't play anymore tricks." Connor smirked.

"Don't make me find a way to tie your mouth shut either." He added.

"Some way to treat a lady." I grumbled.

The horse started galloping away, down in the stone pathway.

"How long until you get to Virginia?"

"About 3 days." I was almost disgusted. 3 days with him? The horse trotted happily but the rest of the world was dark and sad. I looked at the ground, twigs and roots. Something I probably would have wanted to use to trace lines in the dust right now, only I could not reach them. So finally I began to day dream, again of Vietnam, until the cool air of Boston turned into the scorching heat of Asia. I closed my eyes, wanting to drown in the vision forever.

"Thức dậy!" A voice called out. My breath stopped. Mother….? The language so familiar like droplets of rain I tried to respond but I noticed another voice beat me to it.

"I am tired!" It called out. My voice. I shivered at the unfamiliar tone of my own voice. But I didn't speak, that was someone else! I thought.

"Don't be rude to me! We have much work to do, so get your lazy bum out of bed!" I SAW myself climb out of bed lazily. What's going on? I thought. I'm not controlling myself, I can SEE myself…I watched amazed as I watched myself slowly braid my hair and make my way out to the field.

"Mother, can I go fishing?" I pleaded.

"No, not today."

"But today is when Grandmother was born! We should have a feast…or something…"

My mother seemed to consider this.

"Fine. But be back to help prepare the meal."

"I will mother." I was wrong. I watched as my 7 year old self skipped along to the river bend with a bamboo fishing pole in hand. Only to be stopped halfway through by a tall man in frills and another villager pointing to me.

"That's her." He said. And then I was gone. I remember it all. I don't miss Vietnam. Not until now. It was always buzzing with gnats and bugs, the sun merciless and work only encouraging it to beat down on us harder…I told Jacque of this story often and he seemed to pity me, but I was always happy to be with him at least. But now he is gone too, and I was upset I couldn't shed tears for him.

I realized I didn't even miss my own family; it's been so long I remember their faces and nothing more. Only now do I miss them.

"Hey…are you alright?" Connor suddenly murmured gently. Reality slapped me and I noticed I was just dozing off. My head rested on a firm surface and I looked up to see what I was leaning against. GROSS. I screamed in my head. I fell asleep on his BACK! I jerked up.

"Did you fall asleep…?" He asked. I noticed the uncomfortable edge in his voice.

"I think…I did…I don't know." I yawned, I thought my eyes were still closed but it was only the sky. A blank dark blue canvas, the moon it's only light.

"You were speaking…in a strange language."

"Huh? I was?"

"I thought you were talking to me at first…but then you sounded very depressed." My head snapped back and seemed to remind me that I disliked Connor and would show him how I feel.

"Why do you care?" I nipped rather harshly.

"You said you missed your home and you missed your family… I told you that… I…I do too. Then I realized you only fell asleep." Connor replied softly. Oh. I felt embarrassed that he caught me moaning in my sleep but felt stupid trying to push him away when he seemed to be trying to offer comfort.

"I'm sorry." I sighed. He didn't say anything. The whole night I wondered if Connor was human, he didn't show any signs of being tired, and the whole ride I dozed off, my head leaning against his back again but suddenly flinching back up as soon as I realized that it was him. I did this until finally, I got too lazy to pull my head back up as fast as I had done before, my head slowly lifted, but I felt his shoulder bone shift and realized he let go of one of the reins and tapped my wrist. I stared at the back of his hood, the hand returned to the reins again.

"Just go to sleep." Connor whispered. And I did.

* * *

I woke up surprised to still be on the horse. My hips ached, and the sun only just beginning to rise. I tried to pull my hands to back but they didn't move. I swear I freaked out for a second and realized that I was tied up again. I growled and tugged on the tight cloth again. Connor glanced back and smiled.

"Untie me." I hissed.

"Not a morning person, are you?" He chuckled; his dark eyes peered into mines curiously. I noticed the faded dark circles under his eyes, deeper than they were when I first saw him.

"Hey…did you…sleep?" I questioned.

"Well, since horses know how to get to Virginia by themselves. Yes. I slept the whole night." He scoffed, and stopped the horse abruptly. _"I don't sleep."_

I watched impatiently as he began to untie the cloth that held my wrists clamped together. I hopped off of the horse but he snatched my wrist again.

"Do I have to hold your hand? Because trust me, neither of us would want that."

"Why? Do you have a boyfriend?"

"I-! NO! I'm a man…"

"Sure you are."

Connor dismounted his horse and motioned two men over, he whispered a few things, and dropped a small pouch of money in their hands and then the men folded their arms and glared daggers at me, watching me.

"Are you serious?" I whined.

"Behave." Connor snapped. He walked into the blacksmith's and disappeared behind a wall. I silently kneeled down and picked up the twig that was broken by Connor's foot mercilessly snapping the delicate branch. The two weirdoes Connor hired stepped closer and looked at me as if I picked up a weapon. I scoffed, quietly bent down, and began drawing rows in the dirt. Any other day this would have been some sort of plan to run away again, but today, I'll just pretend that I'm watching my mother tending the rice fields again. The stick dragged through the dirt creating fine creases, resembling the sticky, wet, fields I was actually glad to get away from.

The two hired men stared in confusion and whispered a few things to each other. I ignored them, and stood up again, careful not to rip the dress Jacque gave me, and dusted myself off. I looked at the ground, the four rows, suddenly turned into a little landscape in my head, tiny little sprouts of grass filled it and water slowly, magically, replenished the ruts in the ground, I smiled.

I heard Connor dismiss the men and walk toward me, I quickly stomped out the rows in the ground, kicking away the stray pebbles and pressing out the creases. I watched my shoes as he suddenly appeared next to me, arms folded across his chest as if he were scolding a dog.

"Ahem…what was that?" He snapped. He probably thought it was an escape plan. I kicked another pebble away, watching the ground, making sure it didn't move.

"Ruộng lúa." I chirped in my native language. I hadn't spoken it in so long, I'm sure I had an odd accent by now.

"What…?"

"It means, rice field…" I huffed impatiently.

"What's that?"

I briefly explained, annoyed, and finally I decided to change the subject.

"So…are we in Virginia yet?"

"No. Change of plans. We're heading to New York. Washington demands to see you as soon as possible, he will meet us there."

"What's with the sudden change?" I complained.

"I…don't know." Connor's mind was somewhere else. I could tell.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I didn't tell him about your little 'attempt' yet. I wonder why he wants to see you so badly."

"It wouldn't have been an 'attempt' if you hadn't come…" I muttered. He whacked me on the head. Owww...?

His dark brown eyes stared at me in amusement. I fixed the curls in my hair innocently.

"That hurt…" I pouted, acting timid. He only rolled his eyes and I noticed he had more arrows and ammunition. He walked to a different horse, this time, a chestnut brown horse. And once we both got onto the horse he tied me up again. I sighed. And once again we were off.

"We should get there by dawn." Connor pointed out. Then he was silent. I started thinking for a long time. There is no way out of this. I thought again of Connor's fighting style, the way he wiped out the soldiers so easily and confidently. I hated to admit he was very skillful…There is no way out. I poked my head over Connor's shoulder. He looked at me and his jaw tightened. I dared myself to ask.

"What do you think they'll do to me when they find out I tried to kill someone on their side?"

I think he knew the answer because he looked at me, shocked that I would ask such a thing and returned his attention to the horse's steady gallop.

"I don't know." He lied. I thought this over. Surely, if I had been a man, he would have killed me on the spot or bring me somewhere to be executed. Thank god I'm not. The only horrible part of the consequence was not knowing what it was.

"I'm not afraid of death…" I murmured. And it was true, death was common, it meant nothing to me. People hunch over stone graves weeping for an eternity but I simply run past them. Soldiers bring back dead or dying men and I only stare at them, they look more peaceful than they do fighting a war that never ends. Death was the painless part. And I didn't care too much for the part before that either, even if THAT was the part where pain took place.

"You should be." Connor growled. I scoffed. After hours of silence, the sky turned a deep orange with pink ribbons of color in-between. I got bored, and I wanted to play. Connor watched the road ahead carefully and only occasionally glanced back at me or the road behind us.

I loosened the tight, brown cloth that tied my hands together in front of him easily. My fingers stretched themselves gracefully and my wrists relaxed. I waited for the horse to roughly stumble over a rock or rut to scoot closer to Connor, curiously waiting for a reaction. I didn't bother touching him, though my hands still had to fool him longer by holding onto him. I sighed, getting bored again. I decided that I _needed_ to get some sort of reaction and my hands slowly ventured higher onto his chest, waiting to be scolded or hit on the head again. Or at least getting him to say something, I found it odd to be so close to someone without having them talk. In fact, it was really creepy. Finally, I pulled myself into a tight hug, and rested my head against his back, giving up and-

" WHAT ARE YOU DOING." Connor demanded. Oh, so it worked.

"Sleeping…" I replied amused.

"Oh…I…"

"What do you THINK I was doing…?" I asked, holding back an ignorant smile.

"Nothing." Right... When finally he let go of the horses' reins, I told myself that I wasn't done goofing off. I snatched his wrist and by instincts he looked back at me venomously. I felt rough beads and smooth round marbles encircling his wrist, strung together by a tough string.

"What's this?" I say innocently. He looked into my eyes suspiciously.

"It's a bracelet…" He breathes cautiously.

"Hm…it's called vòng đeo tay where I come from. Well, I think. I forgot."

I poke the bluish bead gently.

"It's very pretty." I told him. I meant it; little things like these were always fascinating to me.

"…thank you-."

"-But I thought only women wore jewelry." I smile as a he blushes and tries to explain something to me.

"That's not true!" He snapped.

I already knew that, I've seen soldiers holding lockets with pictures of their wives in it, and wearing necklaces, but I let him explain anyways, because it was fun listening to him try to tell me something and yelling at me halfway through because I started laughing. He glanced at the beaded bracelet again.

"It's from my home, back in, the hut I grew up in." Connor says softly. But I notice the tension in his voice, and finally, for once, I take him seriously.

* * *

So neither of us slept at all, I was too enraptured by his story to sleep properly. But now I know why he fights. He told me his village was destroyed, everything set on fire after being ransacked by the "white men" was amazed as I realized he lost almost everything that I lost and felt everything I felt.

"So…you're an Indian." I finally said. He shrugged.

"I thought that was obvious." Connor replied after his little explanation was done. It was. His dark skin said enough to tell me that he was not a colonist.

"I was making sure…" Jacque told me that they were horrible people, they did horrible things, and they talk to trees…Connor didn't sound someone who'd murder for no reason. I still dislike him, but I guess I don't hate him anymore.

"Hey! Did you do mess up the knots?" He snarls. I remember the cloth I loosened,

"I did no such thing…"

"Well _somebody-!"_

"Good night."

* * *

When I woke up, we were at a stable, the horse reduced to a slow exhausted trot, I remember Connor allowing me to step off the horse, with the cloth still wrapped tightly around my wrists as the horse went back into the stable and a different horse was brought out, eating loudly out of a trough. I stood there, trying not to fall asleep, until I looked up only to see Connor grinning then splashing me with cold water and I screamed. I think it was the first time I heard him laugh, but I marched over and batted his shoulder anyway, the smile disappeared when we heard men shout,

"_There he is! The assassin! Kill him!" _I stared at Connor.

"Assassin?" I panicked. I don't really remember anything about him being an assassin, he told me he fought for the patriots…I should have known judging by the way he dressed…I think he told me…but an assassins…I don't know why I seemed so shocked and amazed. He quickly untied me and dragged me to a dark brown horse and right away it sprinted as soon as Connor nicked it sides with his shoe. I looked back not bothering to sit the way ladies must sit anymore. Redcoats, again. The horse sped up and I felt as if I'd fall off any second.

"Tiffany." Connor snapped. My name was unfamiliar to me, especially if it was spoken by Connor in the middle of a chase where there are about six large men with guns and swords hunting you down.

He looked back at me, with a determined look on his face. He held a pistol in his hand. My pistol.

"Can I trust you with this?" He demanded, waving the fully loaded flintlock in his hands.

"…NO!" I shouted. He tossed it to me and I caught it turning around and fired quickly, once, twice, three, times, four times. Only two men fell off their horses, one stumbled behind the startled horses and dead bodies. Three left. They caught up quickly and one again I began to panic.

"Can you go faster?" I yelled. He glanced back several times, and snapped the reins but horse did not go any faster, it occasionally jolted faster when Connor nicked it, but the redcoats were faster than us. I fired again, annoyed be the recoil. One fell, the blood stains barely visible on his already crimson uniform.

"Hey, that was five shots, you have one more!" Connor warned me.

"What? Don't you have ammunition? There are like two more!" I hissed, my shoulder bag was hooked onto the horse's saddle and strung up so the bag wouldn't drag across the ground, the bullets were in there, but every time I reached down, I felt the heat and sharp crack of the musket ball flying by. They were shooting at us. A group of the red coats patrolling the street saw the two on horses pursing us furiously and decided to join in by foot.

"Make that six more men!" I panted.

"You might as well make the last bullet count!" Connor growled. I looked around; there were only long fields of potatoes and a handful of houses in this area, and…a small farmers market! I looked around and saw a large barrel of apples…yuck… and a woman next to the barrel, her back against it. I aimed at the bucket and once the redcoats were about five feet away from the barrel I fired. Sure enough the barrel literally exploded, with bright green apples flying into the air and plummeting into their path, and the woman startled by the sound of gunfire kicked the barrel away, sending it and the rest of the apples onto the street. I grinned at my success. The horses stumbled and tripped on the tiny fruits, and the guards who ran on foot were too slow to catch up.

"That actually worked…?" Connor gasped. I smiled haughtily. I looked back and one of the redcoats picked themselves from the ground.

"Is that a WOMAN?" He screeched. I turned away quickly and reached down and grabbed my shoulder bag hugging it tightly,

"Go faster!" I shouted at Connor. He cracked the reins again but horse seemed to slow down. I growled in frustration and pulled out the arrowhead, I flicked the tip of the blade off of the horse's side; it neighed in pain and fear and galloped away. After about two miles the horse slowed down again, and by then the both of us had calmed down. Connor was tense, and quieter than usual. I don't know why I got annoyed by this. But it must of have been because we were in New York, and now he has to explain what had happened before they hang me. He did not say anything to me, but I knew we arrived because there was a camp, almost identical to the one Pierre cooped me up in, only without the French.

"Is something bothering you?" I ask irritated. He doesn't say anything, only dismounts, helps me off and once again ties me up. Back to this…He looks around nervously, but I already spot General Washington, and I noticed Connor does too, but he slowly approaches him. Stopping twice on his way over even though they were only a few yards away, to look around and tighten his grip on me. Finally the general turns around and sees Connor's anxious face.

"General…I brought her here as you requested, but-." Connor attempts to explain but Washington quickly grabs me and leads me to a tent harshly, even I was a bit shocked by the sudden jerk. Connor ran to catch up, and I was shoved inside the tent, I felt hurt, by the sharp push.

"I can't believe I didn't recognize this earlier!" Washington says, he makes his way to the desk and chair. He throws aside the piles of paper and scraps until he finds a letter written in fine ink and a dark red rubber stamp stuck on the front of it, he hunches over the letter and I stand on my toes to look at what he's reading curiously. Connor steps forward.

"Washington this is SERIOUS…she is guilty of-."

"NOT NOW, Connor." Connor folds his arm across his chest and impatiently watches. I strain to see the letter but all I see was the stamp, it was the same sharp triangle insignia. The one that Connor had on his belt, his tomahawk and glove.

"Tiffany…tell me your REAL name…the Vietnamese one." Washington demands. I have to rack my brain for my old name the one I haven't used since I was ten.

"Uyen-Thy." I said clearly. Washington almost slapped himself.

"So it's true…come…your grandfather is here, quickly." General Washington says quietly. He notices the cloth around my wrists and unties that before handing me the rolled up letter. And for a second I take the letter but ignore it entirely.

"My grandfather is here! Really? He's here?" I ask delighted and elated by the thought. Washington appears confused.

"I thought…you would have known that…" He says eyeing me suspiciously.

"What do you mean…?" I smiled so happy that I might see my family and get out of this stupid land and out of this pointless war. Home.

Washington stares at me, dumbfounded, and I unroll the letter with the triangle on it. I read it carefully and only bother to read a few words, assassin, head-quarters, New York, leader, my grandfather's long complicated Vietnamese name, summons, Assassin Uyen-Thy. I stare at my name and more importantly the word assassin before it. My hands shake nervously, and I toss the letter away.

"What the hell…you…must have the wrong person!" I shout my voice trembling.

"I don't know that many Asian girls, dear. Come quickly, he is an impatient man." Washington gently takes my hands but I pull away. I look at Connor to see if he knows what's going on, but he only puts a hand on my shoulder.

"He knows what he's doing." He said firmly. They lead me farther and farther away until the camp is out of sight and only one tent is left in the woods. He takes me and Connor inside. I am not an assassin! This can't be happening! But as soon as the tent flaps wide open I see him. A familiar face, carved with wrinkles and his skin almost as dark as Connor's. He wears a hood, just like Connor…and he smiles. I choke on tears and disbelief. An assassin…me…all I want to know is what the hell is going on. There is no way I was…one of them. I manage to slide out a few words.

"Ông nội…?"

* * *

***SOB* sorry i had to use my own Vietnamese nickname, it means beautiful poem XD**

**But i couldn't find anything else...T.T Anyhoo, SORRY FOR THE MULTIPLE CLIFFHANGERS! **

**ao dai...traditional Vietnamese dress, there is a picture of Tiffany wearing one on my deviantart, the pic is called Innocence.**

**"Thức dậy!" Literally, wake up.**

**Ruộng lúa Literally Rice wheat, i think...i dunno my Vietnames is suckish.**

** vòng đeo tay Bracelet...literally...item worn on hand.**

**Ông nội...grandfather, grandpa...father's side.**

**Taadaa, Vietnamese lesson 101! Sorry once again for any confusion, mistakes and ahem i quote "damn cliffhangers" **

**XD I love you guys anyways. Thanks!**


	8. Aftershock

** ** PLEASE READ****

**THIS STORY WILL PROBABLY NOT BE AN OC PAIRING ANYMORE ANNNDDD...**

** Guys, Tiffany may be very different now, just a warning. People slapped sense into me. I realize that she is a Mary Sue. So Thank you, and i will fix her so she is more suited to her backround,...I'm sorry for letting you guys down...Tiffany will show more of her Vietnamese roots as well.**

** This chapt is super confusing...so PM me if you need a summary...lol...anyways. less M.S. more OC. :L I'm sorry i could not give you any colours on her assassin uniform, I haven't decided colour schemes. XD**

**Yeah, Tiff has got a pretty jacked up family right? XD just read the chapter, leave a review thank you!**

* * *

I blinked in confusion at the wide grin on my grandfather's face. I looked back at Washington who was politely looking away like the polite man he was, but Connor just looked at me and shrugged. I turned around and nearly cried out when I was pulled into a warm hug, the barely familiar touch was warm and unusual. It was strange…the feeling of being embraced. I resisted the urge and instinct to shove my own grandfather away.

"You have grown so much, granddaughter." He chuckled in our native tongue. "I have not seen you in so long!" His voice was thick and hazy with a strong accent. But it was the closest thing to home. I collected all my thoughts on the forgotten language.

"Is it really…you…?" I breathe cautiously, replying in a rusty Vietnamese. I see the look of confusion on his face.

"What do you mean? Do you not recognize me?" He replied alarmed.

"I just can't believe it…you actually found me… after years and years I finally see you once again, I thought you forgot about me! Why are you here, so far away from home? Who are these people?"

"I will answer those questions later, my eldest granddaughter. Now we are together, and now it is time you finally receive the birthright your father has kept from you all this time."

He ordered the other hooded men to bring a package inside, Connor watched anxiously. Probably because he realized he shouldn't have started conversations with a person who he had to turn in.

"What birthright?" I whimpered half-heartedly, I couldn't care less about whatever he was talking about; I only wanted to go home with him. But then again, I was curious because my family lived a good life, though they weren't royalty, even I knew that I was born to be a fisher like everybody in my family, what birthright could I probably have? The hooded men came back inside with a wrapped up box, flat and wide. My grandfather held the flat box in his hands and told me to open it. I sighed, undoing the little brown rope around it and lifting the lid, thinking about home, and my family, and the sun. I gasped in surprise as the lid came off, and my heart wanted to burst. Another hood, identical to Connor's with a white robe and delicate sash with, again, the sharp triangle insignia fixed right onto the sash. My head started to hurt when I saw the familiar fabric of the traditional ao dai, with golden oriental circles decorating the dress. I noticed it was shorter than usual. Around the sleeve of the white robe there was a coil of rope wrapped there, and on the shoulders, epaulettes. I thought only people of high-rank wore those…I looked away from the weird items.

"Tell me what's going on…" I murmured replacing the lid of the box of clothes, and peering at my grandfather alarmed. When grandfather visited us back in Vietnam, he always brought gifts whether it is sun-dried mangos or a new fishing net, it was never something as alien as the clothes he presented me. With a simple wave of his hand the men in the room all left, I was amazed that they listened to such a simple ordinary man like my grandfather. Connor had already gone. So had Washington. I was guessing this was the best and worst moment of my life. Re-uniting with my family was the only thing I ever wanted, and now all I have. But being turned in for attempted assassination. Wasn't really my plan. I gazed out the door, suddenly feeling like I'd have to leave my family once again. Another tight hug startled me again.

"You look just like your father, Uyenthy." He said warmly.

"You have not seen me in almost 10 years…is that all you are going to say?" I forced a weak, dying laugh.

"I have missed you so much, and have thought of you every single day! I am at a loss for words!" He replied rather loudly. I sensed happy tears in his voice and smiled, my insides dying to explode. I finally remembered what happiness was.

"This may be too good to be true…! I can't wait to go home…and see mother and father…and see my brothers. Have they been good to you?"

"Bao and Hau should be fine. I'm not sure about your mother or your father. " My grandfather soothed, still locking me in the tight embrace.

"What…? Do you not know?" I pulled out of his hug.

"I've been on this land even before you arrived. I have not been home either." My grandfather replied with his arms outstretched.

"What?" I shouted alerted. "What do you mean you were on this horrid land before I was dragged here? Tell me everything! Explain to me! If you were here earlier how come you did not come for me? How come I waited years hoping I'd see my family's face again when my ông nội was here all along!"

"Calm yourself." He snapped.

"I can't…I'm confused…why did you give me those clothes…?" I panted.

"Ah…that…take me seriously when I saw this, Uyenthy…You…you're…ever since you were born…you were to be an assassin. That is why you are here."

"I demand you tell me everything, I am NOT one of these so called assassins. Even if I was I don't understand why I'm here…"

"Would you believe me if I told you why you were here and why you are one of us?"

"No…but I want you tell me everything."

"Not only do you look like your father…but you are so much like him to…you are an assassin, because your father is one. He is an assassin, because I am one."

"You…? Are…a killer…?"

"Your father is my only child, so I must pass down this career to him, and since you are his first born child, you must accept this as well. When I told your father back home he must train to master the art of assassination…"

"My FATHER is a KILLER?"

"No, that is why he declined his line of work. And our family name, MY name, in the assassins will be lost. So when he refused, I was outraged. And to carry on our family name, I had no other choice. But. You. Your brothers were not born at the time, so I thought you were OUR only hope…and when they were born I was happy to have grandsons, but considering how your parents reacted when I told the novices to bring you over to the colonies, I did not bring Bao and Hau over…"

"…What did you just say…? You…you…ordered, whatever a novice is, to bring me…here?"

"It was the only way for you to accept your rank in the brotherhood."

"You ordered them to bring me here?"

"Do not use that tone with me."

"So it was not because of that…that…monster Pierre…It's because of YOU! Because of you I did not grow up with my family! And because of you I grew up in the hands of a jack-ass who had nothing better to do but get mad and toss around his own soldiers. The reason I grew up learning that retarded French instead of speaking my native tongue, and the reason I'm convinced I'm unwanted…just because you want me to carry on a family name…and the family's honor…?"

"Your father was a weak man! Hundreds of years of tradition in the assassin's brotherhood, and your father was the weak link in the chain! I brought you, to restore our honor, be a hero, and carry on the tradition that lasted dynasties until your father refused to become one of us."

I forced myself to say it.

"…You are lucky you are not the reason I lost Jacque!"

My grandfather naturally did not understand, but I didn't care. Dry, little tears finally formed in my eyes again. I was beyond tears when Jacque gave up his own life just so I could find out I would not go home even when I found my family. I guess the tears caught up to me. But I didn't want to cry anymore, I was tired of crying and tired of being weak…

"I'm going home." I said faintly, wiping away burning eyes with my sleeve.

"There is no way to get home. You must stay with me…"

"Why? You are only an old assassin, and I am no one, what will others think you bring me to your lousy killer camp…?"

"I am the head of the Vietnamese Assassin. And you are my granddaughter, which means you are of some importance, they will understand."

"If I was **supposed** to be in the colonies, how come nobody told me I was born into an ancestry of murderers?"

"The conflicts…lasted years…I couldn't get to you, or even find you at first…and that man Pierre you speak so rudely of was the only man kind enough to keep you safe."

Pierre couldn't possibly be kind enough to house some stupid girl like me…

"Pierre is only a soldier, why would he care about me?"

"Pierre is an assassin, more importantly; he is also second in command of the French Assassins."

So much information at once…at home my own grandfather, told his men to bring me here, where he got into a situation and Pierre took care of me…only for me to find out I had a killer's blood in me. So what would happen if I just killed myself right here…? And ended this bad dream.

"I am only a slave to them; I work for them so they can care for me. They brought me on a slave ship!" I protested.

My grandfather shook his head in disapproval.

"How can you be so dramatic? You were not the only person on the ship, granddaughter. How can you see only yourself? Each man and woman there were children of the elder assassins here, who were to retire. And you seem to be worried about only yourself. You are not a slave, little over-reacting one. Why would they send a whole ship for one little girl? That ship was there for all of the future assassins to take the place of their aunts, uncles, grandparents, and parents."

"I was 7 years old. I was traumatized, because you sent people to KIDNAP me and-."

"-Xin lôi … do not mean to interrupt, but, the Patriots…request your presence…" A pale Vietnamese man peered timidly into the tent. "Both you and your granddaughter, mentor."

Mentor? I looked at the old man I called grandfather, and he held the box in his hands once more. The other assassin crawled away shyly.

"My granddaughter, I know you are un-happy. And I knew you would react this way, but please, put on these clothes for now, and protect the family's reputation once more, the only people who knew we had to force you onto the ship because of your stubborn father, are me and the novices who brought you."

"All of this just to carry on a heritage…? This is pathetic…" I whimpered to myself.

"ông nội, because I don't want to be with Pierre, I'll stay with you. But even when I put on this clothing, please do not call me an assassin. I am not one of you…I don't know who I am…I…this is not where I belong…"

"You will see soon enough…this is where you belong, because you bear the family name of Trang, you are Trang Uyenthy, and you are part of our family. Each person outside who bears this insignia…"

My grandfather dug out the sash in my box of clothes and spread it out, tapping the triangle shape on it several times with a reassuring smile on his whiskered face.

"Everyone who bears this symbol, is your brother, or sister…you were home all along. And I will show you soon…just change, I will deal with the men outside. Just change and come out when you are ready. Alright…?"

He set the box down and rushed outside yammering some things in our native tongue, and I peered outside nervously as my grandfather was escorted to Washington, who had such a sad grim look on his I was afraid I wouldn't be alive, I noticed another female Asian woman, and she made her way my tent, I jump backed nervously, hoping she wouldn't enter, but instead, she turned with her back to the entrance of the tent, almost defensively. Was she…making sure nobody went in because I was changing…? Because my grandfather told her to…? I was amazed at how they listened to him without any doubts or any kind of second thoughts.

I was thrilled to see another woman around, because being surrounded by boys whether they were my brothers or men, like General Washington, was something I never wanted to get used to. I opened up the bow and stroked the hood sitting quietly. I wanted to tear the seams apart; angry at a person of my own family would take me away from, home…but knew, that…I didn't want to hurt my grandfather, by hurting his honor and tearing apart tradition. I was sure that that was the man who brought me gifts when I was young, and told me tales of strong warriors from our homeland while I sat in awe, but when he brought up talk of assassins, I thought it was some silly story he plucked from the clouds.

I took the hood and put it on, annoyed from the shadow it cast around me, drowning the light I want dearly.

I shoved away the tent's flap harshly yearning for daylight when my hand quickly struck a hard, object. I heard a woman yelp in surprise. I gasped, shocked from the sudden impact. Her face was twisted up in a scared way. She fixed up her short bob haircut quickly, looking embarrassed. I saw she wore the robes the so called assassins wear. I forgot there was a woman guarding the tent…I must have hit her!

"Xin lôi!" We both gasped hastily at the same time. I covered up my mouth in shock.

"No, no I'm sorry, I forgot you were there. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" I blabbered quickly. She had an awkward unsure look on her face. She bowed deeply, the way you were supposed to when you spoke to an elder or person of importance.

"Xin lôi, ma'am. I should have been standing farther away. My apologies, ma'am." She murmured.

"Huh…? What…what are you doing…?" I asked curiously. She quickly bowed.

"Why are you speaking so…formally… to me…?"

"You are the mentor's granddaughter. You are my superior, ma'am."

"I…um…please, speak informally to me…"

"Hm…?"

"Why do you bow so low when you speak to me? Because my grandfather is an important man, doesn't mean I'm worth anything…please…?"

"I…yes, ma'am…I-I mean, yes. I will. Thank you."

I walked away quickly, embarrassed as everybody stared at me as I walked by nervously. Their eyes held doubt. There was a large tree, shading the camp, and under the tree was my grandfather, Washington, and Connor…I was afraid…of what will happen to grandfather, but not worried about what will happen to me.

* * *

"You…you…did you really…?" Grandfather stuttered. I looked at the three men; Washington looked in my eyes firmly with a doubtful look on his face. Connor didn't even want to look at me.

"Hear me out...and you will all understand who the real traitor is."

* * *

"So Pierre did all of those things…to you and to his men? He really killed all of those men…?" Washington breathed heavily,

"How do we know she isn't lying?" Connors butts in. He actually seems worried; almost hoping my story was true. Either that or I'm the one hoping he believes me.

"I knew a man he murdered. Jacque…he…was…mine. Until he gave up his life to help me run away…"

"IS HE A LOVER…?" My grandfather hissed protectively and alarmed.

"No! No! That's disgusting…I can't…really love anymore. I've forgotten. Jacque always reminded me, but now I have no one left to. He was like my older brother. I'd be dead if he hadn't loved me like a little sister…" I suddenly realize now that I can't say his name anymore without my heart crumbling, and a piece of my sanity melting. I guess that is where the tears all went to hide.

"And this scar…" I dusted off the clothing that covered up my shoulder. And ran a line with my finger that went from the tip of my rounded off shoulder to the edge of my collarbone.

"Was a gift from Pierre. He gave it to me on my birthday just recently. It should heal soon…but…"

"What is it…? Tell me so we can get rid of this man who hurt you!" Grandfather growls.

I finally laugh a little. A real laugh.

* * *

"I was worried it would stay there forever because it felt weird and was very unattractive, and Jacque said if it did, he would give Pierre a black eye in return for the ugly scar…ha-ha…Jacque, always made me laugh, I suppose I would have already killed myself if it weren't for him, so I almost don't want it to heal anytime soon."

"That Frenchman is a traitor!" My grandfather burst out, he turned to Washington.

"Please tell me, I believe you. I honestly do. But if you are lying, it will cost you your life…"

"I'm not, sir. I'd never lie about this."

General Washington nodded, and smiled gently, as he guided my grandfather away seemingly discussing some kind of plan. Connor stayed, looking at me, wondering almost.

"I….believe you." He says carefully. I stayed silent, not knowing what to think of him. So we came all of this way for nothing…? I thought it was best if we never ever spoke again. I never wanted to see his face again, and I'm sure he did not want to see me.

"But that doesn't explain why you like to flirt with me the whole ride here." He said, a tiny crooked smile appearing on his face.

"What..? What is flirting…?"

"Stop! You're doing it!" Connor hissed.

"Doing what?" I snarl.

"That! You are definitely flirting!"

"I don't know what flirting is, you stupid dumbass!" I scream…I cover up my mouth impulsively, I'm getting mad easier…and I don't know why. I was so easily irritated by Connor, but…I don't want to be angry.

"Are you serious…? Are you making fun of me…?" I take a deep breath.

"No, I am not. I like making fun of you, because you are bugged easily, but I'm serious." I smile, trying to avoid getting mad.

"How could you not know what flirting is?" He chuckles.

"I didn't know what a stupid little kiss was two days ago so just tell me what flirting is, dammit!" I snap. I bite my tongue.

"You don't know what a kiss is?" Connor states, quite shocked. "Fine, flirting, is making someone…feel…weird, like your teasing them saying or doing some pretty romantic silly stuff because you like them. If I touch your arm that makes you feel weird—"

"Do not touch me."

"Sh. And it has to do with love okay?"

"Hm…you thought I was flirting with you…that would mean I like you, but I really hate you." I looked at him, he blushed as he frowned.

"I do not want to have this conversation." I announced.

"Neither do I."

"But whatever I did, Connor, I don't know what I did. And if I did, It is not flirting. It's called. Teasing."

"Nope, it's flirting…"

"It's called Finding your weak spot."

"Why would you find my weak spot? Just to tease me…? That is cruel, woman!"

"NO YOU TIED ME UP. I was trying TO ESCAPE! By distracting you!"

"This is why you flirted!"

"NO I WAS DISTRACTING YOU."

"By flirting!

"GOD HOW CAN WE ARGUE ABOUT SOMETHING SO STUPID?"

"Forget it…I'm leaving…" Connor said softly. I was alarmed, did I make him upset? I felt like I did something wrong, and guilt was already eating me alive. All my life I felt as if I've done the wrong thing…I found myself freaking out, hoping I did not make another mess. Him storming away, reminded me of…

"Jacque! Wait!" I say quickly. I gasp and turn away hoping Connor wouldn't see me. I won't joke about death anymore Jacque! My mind says hopefully. My head was mixing me up…I realize the camp is not crowded, only the woman from before, and two assassins. I did not know where Washington and Grandfather went, only that they were not in the area. I still felt as if the world were watching me. I snail to the back of the tree, facing the woods, so nobody would look at me, and sit down, I think about me being an assassin, the woman who spoke so formally, the man who called grandfather mentor, Pierre, and Connor being mad at me. But try not to think about Jacque.

"_Those clothes look quite nice on you, Tiffany…"_

Jacque…This cannot be happening. I peer up to see him standing there looking down at me, with his hands crossed and a smile on his face.

"I'm already going mentally insane…must you appear in front of me like a damn phantom?" I mutter. He kneels down a bit and grins.

"I sense you need me around for a little bit, chère …so once you regain your strength, I leave you alone."

"Leave. I do not speak to air. I am not crazy."

"I am not air!" He laughs. I lift my hand and bat at his hat. I swipe through nothing, as the shadow disappears. I bury my face in my head.

Air.

"Leave. Me. Alone. If I see you, I will cry, and I will not cry in front of a camp. "

But his voice echoes in my head once more.

"I understand, you have much on your mind, what with this new of assassins and such. I'm being a bother. Maybe tomorrow I will check on you, oui?"

There were no more voices, and I was glad they were gone. Because I was not going crazy. Not yet.

"Uyenthy!" My grandfather's husky voice calls out. It is clear this time. And his shout is loud enough to snap me back to reality. I wipe away my red nose and run to him, hoping I would not hear voices, or see dead people.

"My granddaughter, we will deal with that Frenchman who supposedly took care of you. It is alright. And I'm so sorry for leaving you with him, my child." Grandfather quickly steps close and outstretches his arms. I flinch and turn away quickly.

"What is it?" He says.

"Nothing! I thought you were going to hit me…but no never mind. I haven't slept well…and have enough on my mind…"

"You must rest…and…consider…your assassin roots, child. Carry on the legends of the Trang family…"

"I…am not an assassin..."

* * *

I told you this chapter is confusing...Tiffany is getting really sick too...ill...and you see her grandpa was not to good either. lol...

**Xin Loi...I'm sorry/Excuse Me**

**Ong Noi...Grandfather**

**Err...I think that is all..**

**Please leave a review! I left you peeps a long chapter because I'll be gone for awhile! Hint! Next Chapter will have some stuff on how Tiff got her stupid English Name from French guys...srry it is 1:00 in the morning so i am dying...**


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